Zurich glanced aside at his companions. Dorsey's back was turned. Jim Scarboro was swearing helplessly under his breath. Tall Eric had taken off his hat and fumbled with it; the low sun was ruddy in his bright hair. Perhaps it was that same sun which flamed so swiftly in Zurich's face.
"We might as well go back," he said dully, and turned his horse's head toward the little huddle of hills in the southwest.
Boland watched them go with a confused mind, and sank back to sleep again.
* * * * *
"Jackson," said Pete in the morning, "you and Frank stay here. I reckon there'll be no use to take the wagon down to the old claim; but us three are going down to take a look, now we've come this far. Frank says he's feeling better, but he don't look very peart. You get him to sleep all you can. If we should happen to want you, we'll light a big fire. So long!"
"Don Hooaleece," said Benavides, very bright-eyed, when they had ridden a little way from camp, "how is eet to be? Eef eet is war I am wis you to ze beeg black box."
"Joe," said Pete, "I've dodged and crept and slid and crawled and climbed. I've tried to go over, under, and around. Now I'm going through."
They came to the copper hill before eight. They found no one; but there were little stone monuments scattered on all the surrounding hills, and a big monument on the highest point of the little hill they had called their own.
"They've gone," said Stan. "Very wise of them. Well, let's go see the worst."
They dismounted and walked to the hilltop. The big monument, built of loose stones and freshly dug slabs of ore, flashed green and blue in the sun. Stan found a folded paper between two flat stones.